


Nothing to Fear, Except…

by BourbonNeat



Category: The Grand Tour (TV) RPF, Top Gear (UK) RPF
Genre: Bets & Wagers, Blow Jobs, Established Relationship, Haunted Houses, M/M, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-17
Updated: 2015-11-17
Packaged: 2018-05-02 02:24:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5230325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BourbonNeat/pseuds/BourbonNeat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Right, spend the night exploring a haunted hotel. I mean, how hard can it be?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nothing to Fear, Except…

**Author's Note:**

> This is an unbelievably late response to a tumblr haunted house prompt and the TGS Halloween Create What You Usually Wouldn't Challenge that grew and grew.
> 
> Disclaimer: This is fiction. It never happened and is not meant to imply anything about the people featured in the story.

“Coming, Hamster?”

Jeremy stood slightly hunched in the doorway leading into even darker parts of the hotel. In the glow of the torch, his eyebrows were clearly raised in amused challenge as he waited for Richard to follow.

“You aren’t actually scared are you? After all,” he added, raising his voice to make sure it carried into the next room, “as James keeps assuring us, ghosts aren’t real.”

And that was the problem. Of course Richard didn’t believe in the possibility of the existence of ghosts, he’d spent far too many years living with the occasionally disconcerting reality of one. But the spirit that was reputed to haunt these halls sounded nothing like the somewhat curmudgeonly, set in its ways, presence he’d grown rather fond of at the “castle” he still shared amiably with his ex-wife. Richard wasn’t sure that he believed in poltergeists exactly, but if they did exist he was quite certain he didn’t want to meet one. However, he had never been one to back down from a challenge, and even if Jeremy hadn’t been shining the torch all over the room and then back up at his face, like the world’s tallest small boy, Richard could _hear_ the smug in the man’s expression.

“Keep your hair on, Clarkson. I’m coming.” He looked up and grinned as he walked by. “Oh, wait.”

“Bit late for that,” James sniggered from the shadows somewhere in the next room.

Jeremy huffed indignantly, but he was also laughing, shoulders shaking with mirth.

The warmth in that familiar sound was comforting. But as the quiet returned, so did that odd panicky sensation that had been lurking in the pit of Richard’s stomach since all of this nonsense started. Which was ridiculous, clearly; it was just a dark room. Darker than the one before it, granted, and darker still than the one before that, but that did tend to happen after hours when one moved farther and farther away from the lobby, and the kitchens and, well, the people. 

He took a deep breath and waited for his eyes to adjust. And for his heart rate to return to something approaching normal. Even with so many new faces about, and with several of the old ones both missing and missed as they started filming for the new show, somehow the three of them still managed to end up on the wrong end of a drunken bet. It ought to be comforting, really. Or, at least it would be later. Probably.

“Hullo, mate.”

Richard jumped, surprised by the sound of James’ voice so much closer than he’d expected. But his startled expression quickly melted into a smile as he processed what the greeting meant. Sure enough, he could just discern the shape of his colleague crouching a mere arm’s length away, petting a small, dark shape that had to be the cat.

“So you two have made friends then?”

James chuckled self-consciously. “Yes. He didn’t mean to cause so much trouble.”

“He’s a cat, Slow,” said Jeremy, wandering over to join them, the torch swinging in his hand, making crazy patterns on the floor. “They always mean to cause trouble.”

“True,” James said wryly. “But it’s something I’ve grown to find charming. Upon occasion.”

Richard’s smile broadened and the as yet unreasonable fear making his insides twist and coil relaxed a little more. James and Jeremy were idiots, clearly, but somehow they made things better. Even things they’d had a hand in making worse in the first place. Sometimes…

 

*** * * * ***

Other times…

“Look at that!” Jeremy squealed excitedly from the other side of the latest dark, reputedly haunted room.

Richard rolled his eyes. He had now been on edge for so long this evening, that he was officially bored with the sensation. And with dark, drafty, deserted lounges, and conference rooms, and whatever kind of room this was. Bored in general really. Whatever it was that Jeremy had found, Richard was already certain it would be boring as well. Then again, it wasn’t as if he had anything better to do and, well, Jeremy did have the torch.

“Here’s the source of our draft,” the orangutan proclaimed proudly, waving said torch in front of an apparently disused fireplace. “Nothing supernatural about it.” His voice dropped even lower in a cartoonish attempt at spooky. “Well, unless it’s a haunted fireplace I suppose.”

Richard laughed a little in spite of himself, but he still wasn’t interested.

“I think this used to be part of the library, before they divided it all up.” Of course, James _would_ be interested.

Oh no, they weren’t going to… Richard sighed heavily, because yes, of course they were. Soon James and Jeremy were shining the torch at the seams of the room, trying to determine what the original space must have looked like, and James was going on and on – and on! – about the solid construction of the bookcases and the fireplace. Jeremy actually seemed quite interested in that way that he usually was whenever James really got going on a subject, despite always vehemently claiming the exact opposite. Hopelessly boring, the both of them. This would all somehow lead to a lengthy Clarkson-May dissertation on the war, because mustn’t everything?

Richard wandered away from them in exasperation, stifling a yelp when he collided with an inconveniently placed sofa. _Come on, really?_ He flopped down onto it with a huff, making the leather cushions creak and groan beneath him.

“How much time have we got left, anyway?” And, all right, so maybe he’d sounded a bit like a petulant child, but could anyone really blame him? Anyone reasonable, that is.

“Probably only about fifteen minutes less than the last time you asked,” James grumbled, standing up from where he’d been inspecting some of the books on a lower shelf and stretching. But he indulged Richard by looking anyway, swiping the torch from Jeremy and squinting to read the dial on his watch. “It’s not quite one, Hammond. We still have over an hour left.”

Bloody hell, it felt like they’d been mucking about down here for days already.

 

*** * * * ***

The next room was enormous, with tall elegant windows that stretched nearly floor to ceiling, draped in heavy curtains that were only partially drawn. With the lights on, it was probably a lovely ballroom. In the dark, however, it was downright creepy, and the moonlight streaming in over the wind-whipped plants outside cast a series of constantly swirling shadows at odd intervals across the floor.

Richard moved around the room gingerly, keen on not running into any more furniture or stepping on the cat that seemed determined to keep them all company. He thought he saw something move out of the corner of his eye and turned, straining to see details in the dark. No, nothing there after all, but… _Oh God_. The floor groaned behind him and something brushed across the nape of his neck, the touch soft and spidery.

“What the fucking hell…” he yelped, leaping away. Turned around ready to strike out…

Only to be confronted with laughter. Which should have come as more of a surprise, really, but part of him had known, had realized it even as his body jumped. Feeling just carried a lot more significance than knowing in the dark.

“You utter, utter bastard,” he growled. “Jeremy, I swear, if you run your fingers down the back of my neck one more time, you'll spend the rest of the trip with only your right hand for company.”

“S'not what you said last night,” Jeremy finally managed when he stopped laughing long enough to form words.

Richard shoved the oaf away, in lieu of having any actual comeback, and flushed. Ah, well, that was certainly true.

“Besides, it wasn’t me, Hammond,” Jeremy continued, nodding sagely. “It was probably the ghost.”

“Probably the orangutan, more like,” James muttered from somewhere behind them.

“It might have been the ghost. How do you know it wasn’t, James?”

“Because I watched you do it, you pillock, and ghosts do _not_ exist.”

Jeremy’s laughter turned into more of a sputter. “That’s not what you said when… _James_ , you screamed. Not one hour ago. Girliest thing I’ve ever heard come out of your mouth. And this _is_ you we’re talking about.”

“It was a perfect normal response to stimuli,” James insisted. “It’s dark, that blasted wind makes everything creak, the cat ran through, you two panicked and _I_ … reacted.”

“Yes. By screaming.”

“Come off it, Clarkson, it was really more of a yelp.”

Richard sympathized, really he did, but it was a particularly them sort of sympathy. “Right James, a deep, manly yelp… In a pitch my girls would have envied when they were small.”

“Oh, you can both shut up.”

Richard’s laugh started out as genuine but quickly turned into something that was trying just a bit too hard. Bugger, when even taking the piss out of one of your best mates didn't do much to loosen the knots your stomach had churned into, you knew you were properly scared. Sure seemed to be working a treat for Jeremy, though.

 

*** * * * ***

“I think Hamster’s still cross with me,” Jeremy confided in that ridiculous stage whisper the man still somehow genuinely thought was subtle. “ _You_ wouldn't kick me out of bed for the rest of the trip, would you May?”

“Don’t be daft, Jezza,” James said reassuringly. “Of course I would. Much funnier that way.”

Several paces behind – and well out of touching distance, thank you very much – Richard tried unsuccessfully to stifle a giggle. Jeremy turned at the sound and beckoned him closer, waving the torch he’d re-seized possession of like a man trying to guide a plane to the runway. It was an honest invitation to share more of the light, and Richard was fairly certain he wouldn’t try the same prank again, but he was still having none of it.

“Oh no, I’m fine back here. I don’t want you behind me anymore.”

Jeremy smirked, still entirely too pleased with himself over his prank, before pulling his favorite sad face and turning back around. _Yes, poor maligned Clarkson_.

Although the earlier flash of anger – both with Jeremy and with himself for being so damned jumpy – had been real, Richard wasn’t actively contemplating revenge. It was purely a happy accident when his foot found the loose place in the floorboards some time later, but his brain certainly switched gears readily enough, eagerly assessing the possibilities.

Glancing over to where the torchlight bobbed on the other side of the room, as Jeremy chuckled over something James had said, he pulled his foot back and then rocked forward again slowly, carefully experimenting with his weight on the board.

 _Creak. creak. CREeeeeeAK_.

Oh, that was delightful! Richard grinned as the torchlight stopped moving and both men looked up.

 _Creak, creak. CREAK_.

“All right, now _that_ is _not_ just the house settling.” Jeremy insisted, voice tinged with something verging on alarm.

“No, I don’t believe it is,” James agreed, his tone unreadable in the dark.

“What _is_ that?” Richard joined in, trying to keep his voice even.

He paused for a few moments and then manipulated the board again, trying not to laugh as Jeremy shined the torch impatiently in every possible direction except his, searching for the source of the noise.

“Where is that fucking cat?” Jeremy growled.

“Right here by me,” James responded mildly. “It’s nothing, Jezza. Probably just a rodent or something.”

“Idiot. Rats don’t sound like that.”

Richard probably should have joined in again, if only just to keep selling this, but he was now practically shaking with his efforts not to laugh and didn’t dare respond. He counted off the seconds in his head, then leaned into the board again.

 _Creak, CREAK. Tap, tap, tap, thump_.

Which was an absolutely brilliant noise, really, except for the fact that the last part definitely didn’t come from him. Richard’s heart started beating a little faster and he felt the fear start to twist in his stomach again. He willed himself to calm down. After all, this was an old, creaky building.

_Tap, thump. Tap, tap._

And that was decidedly not an old, creaky building sort of a noise. _Crap_. “What the fuck was that?!”

“What do you mean, ‘What the fuck was that?’ Richard?” James asked incredulously, stalking towards him from the other side of the room. “I thought that was you, paying Jezza back.”

“Well it wasn’t. I mean, it was, but now it isn’t anymore. That’s _not_ me.”

“Oh? Oh!” Deep sigh. “Oh Cock.”

James almost sounded frightened, which clearly wasn’t right, and the knots in Richard’s stomach tightened. Jeremy’s reaction was louder and a bit more complicated – annoyed surprise on the verge of getting angry, followed quickly by uncertainty.

The noise was growing louder. And getting closer. Richard ran his hand over the wall behind him, feeling for a light switch, hardly caring if they attracted attention at this point. Jeremy seemed to have the opposite idea and the torch abruptly clicked off.

The sounds were now unmistakably footsteps, the crisp snap of hard soles on floorboards more distinct as whoever or whatever it was crept closer and closer. Instinctively all three men moved closer together, staring at the open doorway they’d passed through earlier. On the other side, a door groaned stubbornly and then grudgingly scraped its way across the floor, as a soft glow entered the room.

Richard’s heart was threatening to beat right out of his chest, but Jeremy actually yelped, the most startled sound he’d ever heard emerge from the man’s mouth. They all looked at each other, turned back to look at the doorway and then…

Stood blinking in complete confusion as the lights abruptly came on and a female voice emitted a gasp that was very much of this world.

“Bloody hell, boys! Are you trying to give me a heart attack?”

Their phantom was a rather pleasant looking, if somewhat startled, woman of some thirty years – though Richard grudgingly had to admit that it was getter harder and harder to tell the age of younger people since he’d passed forty – wearing the crisp, modern, and clearly corporeal uniform of the hotel’s staff.

He sagged in relief and started laughing. Just couldn’t help it, the whole thing was so absurd. Jeremy and James were in much the same state.

“So you’re not the ghost then,” he finally managed.

The woman’s eyes twinkled with amusement as she took in the spectacle before her. “No, I’m Hannah. I’m the hotel manager. Well, one of them at any rate. I heard the noise and saw the light and thought for certain we had a burglar or something.” She finally gave in and just laughed. “Never thought I’d run into the Top- er, into you three crashing around down here.”

Sheepishly, all three men attempted to explain themselves at once, half completed thoughts and full sentences tripping over one another and competing for attention.

“Yeah, well, you see…”

“…there was a bet…”

“…very involved argument about…”

“…producers are morons, clearly…”

“…British Leyland…”

“…rather eat my own hair…”

“…haunted…forfeit…”

“… _very_ involved…”

Fortunately, Hannah turned out to be a Top Gear fan and not only was she completely unfazed by this behavior, she actually seemed charmed by it. Laughing again, she waved her hands, gesturing for them to stop. “I think I get the general idea. Wow, you three really are just like…” She flushed slightly, expression somewhat sheepish, before continuing.

“Look, I am sorry chaps, but you’re really not supposed to be in this part of the hotel after hours. Normally, I’d be happy to bend the rules and take you on a tour or something, but one of our regulars had a delayed flight and he’s due to arrive within the hour. I really should stay up at the front.”

Polite and friendly as she was, it was obvious that Hannah had no intention of leaving them to their own devices. Clearly she _was_ familiar with their work. It was all for the best, really. He was tired from a long day’s filming and a long night’s antics – which meant that his positively ancient colleagues must be exhausted – and they were going to do it all over again tomorrow and then again the day after that. Well, hopefully without any more need to play Ghostbusters.

Besides, the ‘bollocking from a stern member of the staff, who was hugely tall and greatly put out, and demanded that we all stop pissing about downstairs immediately,’ that this was sure to become in the retelling would be justification enough the way anyone reckoned it for them to cut their forfeit a bit short.

They followed her out without complaint, chatting comfortably as they walked and, fancy that, it was much easier going with all of the lights on. Hannah seemed to take genuine pleasure in answering their questions about the hotel. Yes, the one room had been part of the original library, though many of the books had been passed down to the family’s heirs, and the cat was called Tigger. (Jeremy might have made giddy noises over that last bit.) Hannah also made it a point to tell them, almost shyly, how pleased she was to see them all filming again, with a subtle emphasis on the all. Richard could have hugged her for that. They all liked to hear it, of course, but he thought that Jeremy _needed_ to hear it.

“All right, so what about this ghost then?” James teased as they reached the lobby. “Surely that’s just a bunch of touristy bollocks.”

“Oh no, the ghost exists.” Hannah smiled fondly. “But Charlotte’s a good old thing. Just curious and house proud and nothing like they say in the stories. Anyway, she’s been quiet for months.” The smile took a turn for the mischievous. “No, tonight I’m afraid it’s just like your _Man Lab_ : you’ve nothing to fear but the caretaker.”

They all laughed at that, but no one louder than James, who made a comment about the 1970s research of Hanna and Barbera continuing, much to Hannah’s obvious delight.

 

*** * * * ***

All right, so they may have been a bit rubbish at finding proof of ghosts (Or were they supposed to disprove? The terms of the forfeit had gotten a bit fuzzy there. Possibly a few other places as well.), but they had a mountain of evidence proving that lying in one of the hotel beds together was much nicer than bumbling around downstairs in the dark. Curled against Jeremy’s side, Richard leaned into the touch as one large hand stroked through his hair. Watched James, relaxing against the headboard on Jeremy’s other side, trace lazy patterns over the man’s shoulder with long fingers. He wouldn’t call what they were doing – what they did so often in their moments alone – cuddling exactly, but only because saying such a thing out loud would make the other two sputter and squirm, and he might lose his comfortable perch.

“…like a twelve-year old girl at a One Direction concert, May, while Hammond here scampered away as fast as his little hamster legs could carry him.”

They were also still arguing about who had been the biggest girl’s blouse downstairs, naturally, but many years’ practice had rendered them more than capable of accomplishing both things at once. James’ hand moved slowly to the back of Jeremy’s neck in search of bare skin, while he continued to protest his alleged pitch and volume.

“As fast as my little legs could carry me?” Richard slapped his hand down on Jeremy’s thigh harder than was strictly necessary for mere emphasis. “You pillock! Admit it, when she turned the lights on, you thought your time had come.”

Jeremy, of course, would admit to no such thing. Fortunately, although glaring at him once again failed completely, Richard found that kissing the man was a highly effective method for stifling his bluster. It started out as a slow, lazy press of lips, the heat more of a promise of things to come eventually than in the immediate future. But then James began nibbling on Jeremy’s neck, prompting a gasp of approval, and Richard simply could not let that opportunity go unseized. He took the kiss deeper, sliding his tongue over Jeremy’s and swallowing the resulting moan.

“Oh God, that’s cheating,” said Jeremy when they finally came up for air. “M’not complaining. But definitely cheating.”

James’ smile was both fond and teasing. “Cheating? You mean like running your fingers over Richard’s neck earlier? That kind of cheating?”

“Yes, what was that about? Are you nine?” Richard asked, conveniently ignoring his own earlier antics.

Jeremy positively beamed. “We have met, right? Besides, it wasn’t me.” He nodded sagely. “Remember what Hannah said? It was probably Charlotte.”

Richard snorted. “ _Right_ , Charlotte. Well, don’t look now, mate, but those aren’t _my_ fingers on your neck.”

“This is true,” James agreed eagerly, his formerly meandering hand now stroking Jeremy’s neck more purposefully. He looked pointedly at Richard’s hand where it rested on Jeremy’s pajama-clad leg. “Nor are those _my_ fingers creeping up your thigh.”

Grinning back at James, Richard rushed to match deed to words. The creeping rapidly turned into more of a caress when Jeremy shivered deliciously in a way that was anything but frightened. James chuckled warmly above them and switched to raking his nails lightly through wild grey curls.

Jeremy sighed as he leaned back into the touch, giving them both the sort of thoughtful, considering look that only ever boded mischief. He turned to Richard with an innocent expression. “And I suppose next you’re going to tell me that isn’t James’ mouth I feel wrapped ‘round the head of my cock either?”

 _Oh_. Now that was certainly an interesting idea. Their alarm was going off terribly early. The late night in the pub and subsequent nocturnal explorations had already been ill-advised – not that that had ever stopped them before – so anything truly involved was definitely off the menu. But Jeremy’s expression had switched to his ridiculous pleading face, which was always far more irresistible than it had any right to be. Well, if the old man wasn’t too tired yet, then neither was he.

Richard moved to divest Jeremy of his pajama bottoms, enjoying the surprised intake of breath as his fingers sank into the soft, well-worn fabric. Eyes dark and, judging from the state of his pajamas, quite pleased with this turn of events, James was quick to assist, urging Jeremy to lift his hips, and collecting the castoff clothing. _Probably going to fold everything neatly too, the pedant_ , he thought, not without affection.

“I’m not…” Jeremy started to say apologetically.

“Yes, I know,” Richard said, letting his gaze drift from Jeremy’s eyes down to his cock. There was definite interest there, but still of the initial sort. He licked his lips in genuine anticipation, making sure that Jeremy saw it, watching his level of interest grow in response. Felt James’ warm hand grasp his own where it rested against Jeremy’s bare hip, and squeezed back.

“Remember,” he added huskily, making eye contact again. “I like it this way.”

Oh and he did, practically purring as he stretched out between Jeremy’s impossibly long legs, while James assisted again, doing something clever with pillows. His own cock, already more than interested in the proceedings, hardened further at the taste of Jeremy’s skin, and the sound of two deep, appreciative groans, as he slowly kissed the inside of one thigh, and licked and nipped at the other. Richard paused for a moment when he reached the top, smiled smugly over the resulting gasp of anticipation, then took Jeremy into his mouth whole, burying his nose in musky curls. Because that was the particular beauty of half-hard cock.

Jeremy whimpered as Richard sucked gently at first, working his tongue over every inch of salty skin with an ease and thoroughness that would quickly become impossible. He loved this, loved the intimacy of it. Tasting. Teasing. Savoring the sensations as Jeremy quickened in his mouth. It never took long really, not when the three of them were together like this.

Jeremy was every bit as loud and enthusiastic in his pleasure as in any of his rants, and oh God, that was good. Richard moaned and began to suck harder, lips sliding faster over Jeremy’s length, now thick and full in his mouth. A hand stroked up his back, caressing a shoulder, before settling on his head. Fingers buried themselves in his hair, rubbing, almost kneading, like the paws of an ecstatic cat; encouraging and appreciating, but never demanding, because Jeremy knew that Richard didn’t enjoy that particular game.

Lost in a pleasure-filled haze of taste and texture, in the sensation of a loud moan that he felt as much as heard, a deep throb under his tongue, Richard hadn't even noticed James move. But suddenly those familiar hands were coaxing him to roll slightly onto one side and removing his pajama bottoms, clever fingers caressing his legs, his hips, his arse, and then… and then… _Oh God!_ James’ lips on the head of his cock. James’ tongue darting and teasing. James’ mouth – _Christ, that mouth_ – hot, wet, sucking him long and slow in a maddening counterpoint to the pace of his own mouth on Jeremy. And it was good, so bloody good.

Richard whined and moaned, one hand gripping the base of Jeremy’s cock, a needed assist with his attention now divided, the other reaching down to tangle in the thick, messy waves of James’ hair. It was bliss caught between them like this, a pleasure so intense it was almost a tangible thing. Richard knew he wouldn’t last very long, and that was before James began to moan, swallowing around him with great shuddering gasps. _Fuck. Oh yes please._ His own lips and tongue moved even more insistently in response.

Jeremy was getting close now – Richard could tell by the taste of him, from the tight feel of his balls – and his hand slid down to Richard’s shoulder where it could grip and squeeze with less restraint. But it was the thought of what Jeremy must be doing with his other hand, of what had James moaning and writhing and sucking Richard’s cock down his throat with greedy abandon, that had Richard rocketing toward the edge. He thought of Jeremy’s hand stroking the back of James’ balls, thumb rubbing over the hypersensitive skin in the slow, lazy circles that drove him wild. Wondered if he’d missed the telltale snap of a plastic lid. Thought of Jeremy with two or three thick digits buried deep inside James, fingering him to the brink of madness. He moaned long and low, wringing several curses from Jeremy, and felt his own plums pull tighter.

James’ hands stilled their caress of Richard’s arse, tensing their grip and pulling him closer, deeper, as the man whimpered around his erection. Richard groaned, tightening his fist around the base of Jeremy’s cock and twisting slightly, as he grazed his teeth across the head just so. “Oh God. Richard!” Jeremy gasped. He bucked hard twice into Richard’s fist, into his eager mouth, and came, thick and hot and salty on his tongue.

Richard greedily swallowed every drop. God but he was desperate to come now too, shaking with need as he willed his hips not to just start thrusting into James’ mouth and never stop. James laughed warmly, a delicious vibration around his straining cock, and ran one finger along the crack of Richard’s arse, from the cleft at the top down, down to his hole. And just pressed it there. _Fuck_. Richard shuddered and came, finally letting Jeremy’s cock slip from his lips, soft and spent, as he moaned his completion.

 

*** * * * ***

He awoke all too few hours later, still tired but so thoroughly sated that he really couldn’t complain. Jeremy was already sitting up next to him and James stirred briefly on his other side before pulling the blankets tighter and burrowing deeper into his pillow.

Hmm. He really must have just passed out last night. Normally they would have shuffled back around and let Jeremy lie in the middle, where the bed was apt to be the most comfortable for his back. Also, Richard didn’t remember anyone turning the lights back on after they’d settled down together under the blankets, holding each other close in the comedown. Something had woken him up. A sound perhaps? His still sleepy brain couldn’t quite remember.

The lights turned off and then immediately back on again.

“Please tell me you’re awake and just saw that, Hammond.” Jeremy’s voice was still thick from sleep, but that tinge of alarm was back.

Richard sat up yawning, and looked around, not entirely certain what he had seen.

“Just the power fluctuating, you reckon?”

“Ah, no,” said Jeremy, pointing at the switch on the wall, which obligingly moved down, then up as the lights turned off and on again.

They turned to look at one another, Jeremy uncharacteristically at a loss for words and Richard struggling with a faint sense of déjà vu. Before either could say anything, James sat up, tousled and grumpy looking. “All right, all right,” he grumbled. “Quit playing with the lights. I’ll get up.”

Richard took in Jeremy’s shocked expression and James’ confused one and could only think of one appropriate response. “It wasn’t me,” he said flashing them both a cheeky grin. “It was Charlotte.”

James failed to see the humor. “Oh very funny, Hammond. I am sick to death of all this ghost– ”

The lights turned off and on again and the closet door slid open a few inches, apparently for emphasis.

“Bloody Nora,” James concluded in a much softer voice.

Jeremy found his words after that; they all did, and promptly began talking over one another – Jeremy agitated and excited, his hands gesturing broadly, James a bit more subdued, still mulling things over, and Richard, now feeling like he was on comfortably familiar ground here, attempting to explain. _Yes, ghosts. This is just what they do_.

And they might have continued like that for considerably longer had Jeremy not happened to glance at his watch. Fuck. In their post-coital lethargy, apparently no one had remembered to set an alarm. They should have woken up half an hour ago.

“Bloody helpful ghost, that,” said James, followed by an honestly surprised sounding “What?” when they both turned to look at him, jaws somewhere in the vicinity of the floor.

“Showing off for the skeptics, more like,” Jeremy would later disagree.

But Richard wasn’t so sure. Hannah had liked them – Hannah who was clearly fond of Charlotte and who cared for the property with something that went a bit deeper than professional pride – so perhaps they had gotten into the ghost’s good books by association. Well, either that or she wanted to make sure they finished their filming on schedule and left the hotel as quickly as possible. Hannah watched Top Gear; perhaps Charlotte was familiar with their work as well.


End file.
